Queen's Own
by Sunburned-Stickperson
Summary: Desmond is the youngest of seven royal siblings, and he's always been mistreated. As his eighteenth birthday approaches, "Little Useless" finds his life changing in many ways. He calls it magic.


**Part three is up! Time for a party! :3**

**Have I ever told you guys how much I love AUs? :D They're, like, my favorite thing to write because the characters can act so different since they're in such ridiculous situations! XD **

**Anyway, the story I borrowed the story from is a Russian fairy tale called "The Tale of the Transparent Apple and the Silver Saucer" by Arthur Ransome. I suggest you check it out-it's my favorite fairy tale ever. If Disney ever did a movie of it, I would have a new favorite princess.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Desmond sighed again, staring out the window. His two new bodyguards, his cousins Altair and Ezio, were now employed to watch him like a hawk. He was not happy about this, but his father had insisted they were for his own protection after he was caught trying to escape ten times. Ezio and Altair didn't seem too excited about it, either. He glanced over at them, sitting quietly, hunched over with their eyes covered, silent. They were extremely quiet. It annoyed Desmond.<p>

He stared out the open window, watching the sunset. He felt like a captive in his own home. He fiddled with the charm his mother had given him for his fifth birthday: it was a small, blue stone that sparkled like water. When he touched it, he often expected his hands to come away wet. The string that held it around his neck was a faint pink and green, as if were made of roses. Leonardo, his teacher, shook his head at such ideals, but it reminded Desmond of the rose bushes in his mother's garden.

A creature carved of the most beautifully grained, light brown wood held onto the stone. It had three fingers on either side of the head, in which a long, leaf-vein patterned trunk came down the middle of the stone. On its head was a hat that was more intricately detailed that came up to a rounded point. It had eyes without pupils and no mouth. He loved it. He loved his mother. With a smile, he tugged on the charm and looked back at the sunset.

It was at times like these that his bones felt weak; his blood, thick; and his breathing, shallow. He felt sick, and his stomach churned as if it were. In the sunset, he hated his prison. Sometimes, he fancied he saw mythological creatures play in the lands beyond his castle's walls, and he wanted to join them. He hated his life.

He couldn't talk about them to most anyone. Leonardo worried; Ezio and Altair scoffed; his siblings laughed; his father dismissed him—it was only his mother who would listen to such wild ideas. She filled his head with stories as they sat in her gardens, surrounded by the flowers and the plants. She told him of the glory days of the assassins and knights, when they would fight a dragon and win, when they would be forced to leave because of fairies. Desmond drank every story like life-giving water. He knew it was foolish—he knew it was something for princesses to do. But he couldn't care less. His mother was the only one who seemed to love him in the castle.

He knew that he wasn't strong. He couldn't wield a sword like his two brothers. He couldn't sing beautifully like his eldest sister, or sew wonderfully like his middle sister. He couldn't even dance as gracefully as his youngest brother or sister. He was useless, and his father never ceased to remind him of that. If it weren't for his mother, he probably would've committed suicide a long time ago.

He smiled as he thought of his mother. She was beautiful—there was never a fairer lady in all their world. Some of the servants had spread rumors that she was actually the last maiden rescued by a knight. He wanted to be out there. Of course, his father had made it clear that he would never have the chance, never be married—not a disgrace of a son like him. With a sigh, he changed into his nightclothes and sat by the window again.

"You know, the fairies are supposed to have their ball tonight."

He near jumped out of his skin. He turned to look at the servant who had spoken. He was young, with curly red hair.

"It the perfect time for theft, you realize."

The boy's eyes sparkled with mischief. He tilted his head.

"They act up all over the place. I dare you: listen to the king's time with the people—there will many, many more cases of theft than ever before."

"Why do they do it tonight?"

"Because tonight marks the beginning of the summer. The fairies are always more active during the summer, your majesty."

The boy sat down next to him. He could feel Ezio's gaze on him, and he ignored it.

"Why?"

The boy laughed. "I will show you: tomorrow, I will bring you a relic of the fairies, yes?"

He perked up. "How old are you?"

"I am seventeen." The boy had a charming smile.

Desmond found himself smiling back. "What's your name?"

"My nickname is Salai, Prince Desmond."

"What would you bring me back?"

"What do you want?"

Desmond looked thoroughly flabbergasted. He had never had anyone ask him what he wanted before. He thought long and hard.

"You are a prince," Ezio spoke. "Do you not have everything you want? Why do you let a thief get you something?"

"There are some things that no amount of money can buy," Salai spat. "Had you a head on your shoulders, you would see clearly."

Desmond smiled warmly as a thought entered his head. It was utterly ludicrous, but felt right. "A silver saucer and a transparent apple—but never mind if there are none."

The young man laughed gaily and walked to the door, though it looked more like a dance. "So you wish it, so it shall be. Tomorrow morn, you will find them in your stockings."

Salai laughed again: Desmond found himself almost bewitched by the boy. After he left, he found himself wearing a huge smile.

"You are foolish," Altair said, and Desmond found himself too elated to care.

"No wonder the others dislike you," Ezio murmured. "You are useless. Their nickname for you is appropriate."

Desmond looked back out the window to find Salai outside the castle walls, waving. He smiled in return and watched him run out. Surprisingly enough, he found sleep an easy companion that night.

The next morning, he woke with energy—something he hadn't had in a long time. With a child's eagerness, he hopped out of bed and walked to the place with his stockings. Sure enough, nestled in the soft socks—something he would trade for freedom in a heartbeat—was a small silver saucer and a transparent apple. His jaw dropped. He had been joking when he requested these things. Then, his lips twisted into a smile.

He was dressed before a servant came to get him to wake him up. Instead, he saw with surprise, it was Ezio and Altair who had to be wakened. He clutched the apple and the saucer in his hands.

"I see the thief delivered," Ezio murmured. "What will you do with it now?"

He smiled energetically at his assassin. "I will spin the apple in the saucer."

Ezio rubbed his face. "Stupid as well as useless."

He entered the room for the lessons much calmer and sat at the back table. His six brothers and sisters were all ready taking the other chairs. He sat quietly and placed the saucer down and the apple in it.

Damn his luck his eldest brother heard: "What are those, Useless?"

Desmond tried to maintain a smile as Ezio said, "A transparent apple and a silver saucer, in which he intends to spin the apple in the saucer."

All his siblings laughed, and he wished for the companionship of Salai again—a boy his age. Nevertheless, as they turned around, he spun the apple in the saucer, watching as it spun faster and faster on its own accord. He could feel Ezio and Altair standing over his shoulders. Soon, it was spinning so fast it looked like nothing more than mist in the plate, and Desmond breathed softly, "Spin, spin, apple in the silver saucer. Spin so that I may see the world. Let me have a peep at the throne of the fairies. Let me see the gold of a dragon's cave and the waters where the sirens sing. Let me see the far off mountains painted purple and the deserts painted in fire."

And his eyes grew wide with delight as he stared at the little glass whirlpool in the saucer. He could hear Ezio and Altair murmur behind him. As he stared, a beautiful throne, decorated in all manner of flowers, sat on the edge of river. A beautiful young woman, who looked like she was birthed of the forest, sat, weeping, on the chair. A second throne sat beside her, empty. Her skin was colored with the richest dyes, and her hair was braided with eagle's feathers and butterflies wings. Her clothes were sewn of the richest flower petals, and her jewelry was made of the finest gems.

It faded to a cave, glittering with gems and gold. A nest was in the middle of it, and in the middle of the gem nest was a small, green dragon. Desmond gasped in wonder as it rolled around in the piles of gold, and his heart skipped a beat when another dragon—twenty times larger—came flying in with a dead cow. It was stunning. Its belly was covered with the most beautiful of all gems, and its eyes blazed like the sun. Its scales shimmered a deep forest green, and its roar sent shivers down his spine.

It faded once more, and Desmond was on the edge of his seat as he saw water. It was beautiful, glimmering and sparkling in the morning sun. Waves lapped a smooth rock protruding from the seas, and he heard the loveliest of voices. It showed him the three most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life. Their music wrapped around him and closed him in a safe cocoon. They looked straight at him and seemed to beckon him.

He found himself touching the mist, entranced as it switched to the mountains, glittering purple. They were the most majestic purple he had ever seen as the sun rose behind them, and he wished to see it for real. The sunlight glittered and illuminated the mountains, and he fancied he could see a dragon returning to its cave. It changed suddenly, so suddenly, in fact, he had to shield his eyes from the colors of the desert as it burned in the noon sun. As he removed his arm, he found himself staring at the fiery sands of the great deserts to the west.

The apple started taking shape again, and Desmond found himself wishing for more. He would trade the life of comfort and ease in an instant to be able to travel the world—poor, dirty, and hungry. He wanted to see the places outside so badly that it hurt.

When he picked the apple up and held it daintily in his hands, he became aware of his teacher and siblings gathered around. Instinctively (used to older hands grabbing), he clutched the apple and the saucer to his chest and shrunk back. Leonardo was staring at him, wide-eyed.

"Where did you get such a gift, Prince Desmond?"

Desmond chewed his lip. Ezio answered for him. "The servant boy Salai."

Leonardo looked confused. "There is no servant named Salai. I would know him. I know all the servants, even the ones admitted this morning."

Desmond clutched it tighter when he saw his sibling's greedy stares. He wasn't going to let them take his gift away. It was his. He needed to thank Salai. He felt the ache in his body again, dull and throbbing. When Leonardo reached out to touch the apple, he bit at his hand.

"No!"

Leonardo recoiled in surprise. "Y-your Majesty! I simply wanted to examine it! You have never had me ask—"

"No!" Desmond snarled, feeling a fire burn within. "It's mine. Take what you will from me, but you will never have this so long as I am locked inside this pit!"

He brought his knees up to provide an extra layer of security, sending his fiercest glare to all of them.

"Desmond," his eldest brother began, "stop this foolishness. Let us see. If this 'Salai' really did bring you such a gift, surely he meant for you to share."

"No. He asked me. It is mine. I am not sharing."

"What would mother say?" his oldest sister said.

"I don't care what mother would say!" he shouted.

"Desmond?"

He whipped around so fast his neck hurt. His mother was walking in, as she usually did to sit in on lessons. He bowed his head, ashamed. Her voice was so soft and calm, he likened it to the sirens he heard.

"What are you shouting about?"

"Desmond received a new toy, and he won't let us see," the middle sister said.

She walked over and stood by her boy. "May I see it, Desmond?"

Ashamed, he pushed them toward her rapidly. She smiled warmly at him and took them with such gentleness, Desmond felt a small smile tug at his lips. He watched her look them over, entranced by his mother's beauty and care. Finally, she handed them back to him.

"You'd best watch over them, Desmond. They're a powerful magic. I'm sure they will work only for you, but such a gift should have the utmost care. A relic from the fairies, indeed."

He gaped. He never told his mother it was a relic from the fairies. She smiled warmly and placed a hand on his cheek.

"You are blessed, my child, to have such an admirer. Such a toy belongs to the Queen of the fairies, and the boy who took it from her must be bold."

He looked down at the apple and saucer in his hands. "Is that why she was crying?'

"No," she kissed his forehead, "no, the Queen weeps for a reason other than that."

"Does it have to do with the empty throne?"

His mother caressed his cheek again, and he leaned into it. Her skin was so soft and smooth it felt like silk. "An empty throne is always a bad sign. But the fairies do not rest until it is filled. You should be on aware, especially with your birthday so soon."

Desmond continued to stare at the treasures in his lap before laughing once and smiling at his mother. "You don't have to worry. The fairies wouldn't want someone like me. It is probably your eldest daughter they'd want: she sings so beautifully."

His mother laughed. He kept the treasures close, reveling in the irritated looks from his siblings. Lessons went off without another hitch, and as soon as they were done, Desmond was off to his chamber to sit at the window and spin the transparent apple. He saw great forests and giants animals that roamed them. It showed him the rivers from many countries over. The barren, white wastelands of the North and South were beautiful.

"I'm glad to see you're enjoying your gift."

He looked up, a large smile on his face. He saw Salai standing there, a tray of food in hand.

"It took quite a bit of fancy work, but I got it."

"Thank you!" he shouted. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"I brought you some food. You missed lunch and dinner."

Desmond smiled. "Would you eat with me?"

"Sure."

The curly-headed boy smiled charmingly, again, and Desmond felt his heart clench. He was happy, and it felt nice.

"Ezio! Alta—"

"Sh, Desmond, they rest."

He looked over his shoulder at his bodyguards and blinked when he saw them leaning forward slightly. "How?"

Salai gave him a mischievous smile and held a finger to his lips when Desmond looked at him. Desmond's brow knitted in confusion, and he pursed his lips.

"I put them to sleep for my own protection."

"You—how?"

Salai simply touched Desmond's cheek with a wink. "I have my ways."

He was floored. "M-magic?"

"Come, eat. I brought you the best of the best."

He looked at the food on the table. There were berries of the brightest colors—foreign fruits he only knew because of Leonardo. There was the tastiest looking fish and the most delicious looking vegetables he had ever seen. The softest of cheeses sat on the plates. He glanced back at Salai as he sat down.

"This-this is…"

Salai gave him a warm smile and rested his head in his hands. "The milk they give you is poisoned. I wished to show you what good dairy can taste like."

"Wait… What?"

Salai laughed. It was warm and boyish, like a distant memory. "The milk that they feed you in the mornings is poisoned. They have been trying to kill you for years."

He placed his chin in his hand and looked away, out the window. "I'm not surprised."

He wasn't. The news didn't hurt him. He was almost upset they failed. He sighed, staring at the food again. It seemed so perfect.

"Why didn't it work?"

Salai tapped his chest, and Desmond looked down at the charm on his necklace. "It's a gift of a water nymph."

"My mother is not a water nymph," Desmond scowled.

He chuckled softly. "No, but it originated from a water nymph."

It made sense to Desmond. The charm always did look like trapped water.

"It's been protecting you."

He stared at Salai. "Why would she give it to me? I'm nothing."

He was surprised when the servant started laughing. It was comforting and warm, like fresh honey.

"Y-you? Nothing? My prince, you are far from nothing!"

Desmond frowned as he picked a strawberry from the tray of food. It was sweet and juicy—the best strawberry he had ever had. Nevertheless, he shook his head. "My family is right: I am useless. I cannot sing, or dance, or sew, or fight. Our fighting instructor, Malik, has refused to let me back in the ring. He says my place is in the kitchens with the women. I can't cook, though. I am the slowest learner of my siblings, and it's only by my determination that Leonardo has not given up on me. I cannot rule: I am useless."

He met Salai's gaze. "I would make a better traveler—"

He snapped his jaw shut, busying himself with chewing the strawberry.

"You wish to be a traveler?"

"I have been forbidden to speak of such things," Desmond said quietly, frowning.

"But I will not tell a soul. Speak, your majesty."

Desmond looked at the servant before lowering his hand. "I want to travel! I want to see all the world—the purple mountains, a dragon's cave. I want to wander in the untamed wilderness in the southeast lands! I want to learn to survive in the frozen north and the icy south!"

Salai was smiling at him as his face grew serious.

"I want to speak with the Indians in the valleys and the plains. I want to visit the capitals of other countries and try their food. I want to be out there, not in here! I want to visit the coastlands and see the mermaids. I want to dance with a fairy and sail on the ocean! There's so much to do, so much to see!"

"And what happens for your death—"

"I want to die in the deserts, sitting on a rock and roasting in the warmth of the sands. I'll die penniless, hungry, and ragged—if only I could get out there!"

"It sounds like you were born into the wrong life."

Desmond slumped forward. "I wish I was."

They ate the food with idle chatter after that, and the prince told Salai of all the things he had seen from the apple. Salai let him talk, watching him with a fond look as he passionately described the beautiful ancient ruins he had seen and the fairy's ring that appeared. He enjoyed the food as he talked, listening eagerly when Salai told him of all the different cuisines he had tasted. He grew more attached the servant boy as the evening passed into night, and when the night was full of stars, he found himself at his window with Salai's arm around his waist, pointing out and filling his head with stories of the constellations.

When the moon was at its highest, he found himself in Salai's arms, his head on the servant's chest as he stared out the window, gazing at the stars and listening to the strong heartbeat. It almost felt wrong—the only other person he had ever trusted enough to sit like this was with his mother, and only in her gardens. He felt his eyes start to slip shut.

"Desmond, before you fall asleep, I need to tell you something."

He hummed.

"I won't be back until your birthday."

He bolted up. "Why not?"

Salai cupped his cheek. "Because I have work to do. My people are expecting an arrival soon."

Desmond stared at him, and he scowled. "So?"

"I need to make sure the party goes off without a hitch."

"Why you?"

He laughed. "Because I stole the apple and saucer. But rest assured I will be back for your birthday. You will be eighteen, correct?"

He nodded. "You didn't have to get that for me."

Salai laughed. "It was worth the pain to see you smile. I have watched you for several years now, and you do not smile enough."

Desmond scoffed. "I haven't had much of a reason."

"And so I gave you one," the boy whispered as he leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

It was then he realized that he must have been bewitched. That kiss must have placed a spell on him because his heart was beating quickly, and his stomach was twisting in knots, and he felt so many kinds of happy and right. It was the epitome of magic, and the feel of Salai's lips, the taste of the berries on his tongue—Desmond had never felt anything so perfect. His family was ridiculous not to believe in magic.

Salai pulled back, and Desmond went with the motion, wanting more, but Salai laughed and ran a thumb over his bottom lip. "Not right now. I must leave, but have faith I will return."

Desmond nodded numbly and watched the servant boy leave. The moment the door closed, Ezio and Altair snapped awake, and he heard the sound of their hidden blades slide out as they surveyed the room, confused when all they was Desmond at the window, a distance expression.

He had just lost his heart to the mysterious redhead, and he loved every moment. He locked the apple in its box in a trance and changed into his nightclothes. He settled into the bed and was surprised to find a small ragdoll under his covers. It looked like Salai, and when he held it to his nose, it smelled just like him. He fell asleep under whatever spell the magic boy had placed on him, warmth seeping through his veins and filling his heart as he dreamt of his bewitcher and all the things they had talked about.

He didn't hear Ezio and Altair's discussion about cracking down more. He didn't see his father come in, a frown on his face and the heated order to kill the redhead next time he came. He didn't hear his father's screech when the man touched the apple and burned his hand. He was too far-gone.

The next few days passed quickly, and he didn't pay Ezio and Altair any mind. He didn't mind when they followed him to the bathroom, or watched him bath. He spent longer hours with the apple and in the gardens with his mother. He gave his siblings no response when they called him "Little Useless" or when they cause him trouble. He dumped his milk on the ground and laughed when the palace cats came and sniffed it before leaving it in a puddle untouched.

Every night he watched the stars and dreamt up stories for the constellations. He watched the apple's visions in all free time. He slept curled around the doll Salai had left. He cleaned the stone on his charm with care. His life in reality was quickly deteriorating.

He didn't bat an eye when Leonardo finally gave up on teaching him. He took the extra time to watch the apple in the gardens. Sometimes, he would catch his mother watching him, a sad smile on her face. He would smile back, and she would walk over, kiss his head gently, and murmur what a good son he was.

It was four months until his birthday when he woke, his head surprisingly clear, and he sat up, listening to a small barking sound coming from the end of his bed. Ezio had a dire fox kit in his hand, his hidden blade out as he and Altair discussed what to do with it. It was pure white, with the brightest blue eyes, and Desmond smiled.

"That's adorable," he murmured, and his bodyguards stopped talking to look at him.

Desmond crawled to the end of his bed and gently pried the dire fox kit from his bodyguard's hand. The fox was as big as the watermelons he had seen in the apple, and he cradled it in his arms with a laugh as it nipped at his fingers. He laughed again when it ate the dried meat he had stashed in his room as he dressed.

He picked it back up as he walked out. Ezio and Altair fell in line beside him, and he smiled at them.

"Your majesty, you should let us kill it."

"Isn't is cute?"

"Your father banned pets—"

"My father banned pets when his oldest son's rat was eaten by his third son's cat."

He ruffled the fur on its stomach and let it gnaw on his arm.

"I'm going to show my mother. She'll love the dire fox! Is she in the throne room?"

"I would assume so, your highness, but you must let us—"

"I forbid you to kill it. It's done nothing to harm you, so leave it alone."

The assassins looked at each other as Desmond walked down the hallways to the throne room. When the fox kit licked his face, he laughed and took off running. He threw open the doors.

"Mama!" he shouted, skidding to a halt when he saw the wild woman from the apple's first vision standing in front of his father and mother.

He clutched the fox closer, watching as the woman looked at him. She was beautiful. There were butterfly wings in her hair, braided with the most beautifully painted wooden beads and eagle feathers. Her eyes were as wild as the rest of her and a glimmering forest green. Her skin had patches that were dyed, highlighting her angles and features, and her breasts were the only skin covered on her stomach. Her skirt had short pants underneath, and it was hardly considered decent by his kingdom's standards. He found himself blushing at her nudity, yet completely entranced by the deep colors of the flower petals that were stitched to create her minimal clothes. A beautiful spider web graced her neck, fanning out and sparkling silver. She had bracelets and anklets made of the purest gold, silver and platinum on her, and the gems embedded in them looked fantastically cut. Her skin was a deep, rich tan, and a silver fur pelt was draped on her shoulders, kissing the ground when she moved. She smiled warmly at him.

"Speak of the devil. I see Kiara found you."

Her voice flowed smoother than the river and sweeter than the sugar cane he had tasted once. He was confused.

"My fox kit."

He frowned and clutched the kit closer. It licked him again.

"Come, Kiara."

The fox wiggled out of his arms and bounded over to its owner. Desmond stepped back, trembling against Ezio's and Altair's solid bodies. He didn't want to let the fox kit go to the beautiful woman. He had been incredibly lonely with Salai gone. And his father didn't give him the time of day, his siblings harassed him, and Ezio and Altair were, well, assassins. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She scooped up the kit and pointed at the king. "You will give me my child, as promised. I have given you all that you wished for saving me, and I expect payment."

The king rose. "I will never give you what you ask."

The woman's eyes narrowed, and Desmond found himself wanting to reach out and touch her. "I have been patient as you consume our forests and plow our lands. I gave you the kingdom for my life and have tolerated as much as I can. This is your final warning: surrender what your son , and I will spare you. If you fight, it will be your last."

The king roared. "You insolent woman, go back to the forests from whence you came! I will not give you what you my son, no matter what you say!"

It was then Desmond noticed his other siblings in the room. They were silent and somber. He smiled warmly at the woman.

"My lady, his third son dances so gracefully, I am sure he will come to you. I have seen your people dance through your apple and saucer, and he will love it there when he comes of age in two months."

The queen looked at him and frowned. He pressed himself against his assassins, who adjusted to protect him.

"I-I can return your apple and saucer, if you wish. I promise I didn't not mean to take it."

"Keep the apple and saucer. I have no use of it." She snarled at the king. "And as for your son, I will take him. You have all ready lost him, and it is a matter of time before he is changed. I will not rest until he sitting in his throne, and his crown adorns his head. The more you resist, the greater your losses will be."

"I will never hand him over."

She snarled at bit her thumb, letting a single drop of the purest scarlet blood splash onto the white marble tile. "By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes."

With a flurry of words and a cackle, she and the fox kit vanished in a whirlwind. Desmond was wide-eyed at the magic. He felt a strong jealousy of his older brother—to be wanted by such a magnificent creature.

The king bellowed loudly and shouted orders, demanding for every one of his siblings to have bodyguards and layered protection. The castle scrambled to fill his orders, and the military men were rushing to man the castle walls. He looked down when he felt Ezio slip his hand into his.

"We will protect you, Prince Desmond."

He squeezed Ezio's hand and leaned into Altair when the assassin wrapped an arm around his shoulders. They escorted him back to his room in the midst of all the chaos, and Desmond found himself trembling as they closed the door to his room.

"We will keep whatever wicked thing away," Ezio growled.

Desmond shook his head and looked at them. "Fairies…"

Ezio pulled him into a hug, gently stroking his hair. "My cousin, we will fight until the death for you."

"I don't get it. Why does father—"

"Do not concern yourself with his matters," Altair spoke. "He has been corrupted by jealousy and hate."

"Just know that we will protect you from anything anyone here may try."

Desmond nodded. His days became much more guarded, and Ezio and Altair were by his side at every moment. When he bathed, one bathed with him, and the other watched. When he went to the bathroom, they followed closely. At first, it was weird having to older men watch him and everything he did, but as they started sitting with him at the window and lying beside him in the gardens, he found their quiet company enjoyable. They became his only two friends. He was still waiting for Salai to return. He shared his apple and saucer with them and slept with them at night, the doll tucked into his arms.

Two months before his birthday, on his brother's coming of age birthday, the entire castle was in a panic. There was shouting and rushing around, and Desmond asked Ezio and Altair to take him to the throne room so he could talk to his mother. When they arrived, he froze in fear.

His brother was hanging from the high ceiling from a rose vine, and the white roses smeared with his brother's blood were frightening. Across the wall, in his brother's blood once more, was a message.

"Give me my son."

That was it. Those four words sent Altair and Ezio into overprotective mode, and he was rushed back to his room before he could say anything. He sat on his bed, trembling, when his father came up to his room and started yelling at Ezio and Altair before he turned his wrath on him.

"And you, you Stupid Useless One, are not allowed to leave this room! I forbid it! You will remain in here until this idiocy has passed! Your meals will be brought to you, and you will not leave, do you understand?"

His father left before he could even agree. A month before his birthday, he fell ill. It started out small: he was trembling and cold. When the next few days passed, he began having labored breathing and crossing his room became a chore. A week later, and he was bedridden with terrible wheezing, the shakes and shivers, and a horrid sweat. His mother was by his side the whole time, singing to him softly. When he slept, he dreamt of wide, open fields filled with fairies, and the sicker he got, the more Desmond slept. His dreams became his new reality, and he could feel every leaf as he played with the fairies, taste every berry he ate, and see every detail on the bodies of creatures.

He touched a dragon for the first time and gasped at the feel of the scales. He sat and groomed it for hours, gently cleaning each scale and lavishing it with the utmost care. He got to stroke a unicorn's mane and touch its horn. He got to nurse a wolf litter back to health. The fairies he met would wrestle with him and play with him.

He didn't even realize how much time he spent in his dreams until fall turned into winter. He had waken briefly that day to see his mother smiling. Ezio and Altair had been sent from the room. She was stroking his hair, and he felt like he didn't belong. She leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"Happy birthday, my prince."

He didn't respond. He couldn't respond. His body felt so wrong.

"You'll finally get your wish today. Sleep now, and let your body fade. Finish the changling process."

He continued staring at her as she held him close. His limbs felt like weights as she pulled him into her lap. He felt so wrong in his body.

"I will miss you, my son. Go now: the fairies' winter ball is tonight."

He closed his eyes and was out in an instant. When he opened his eyes again, he was at the outskirts of a large open plane. The snow on the ground looked beautiful. There were lights strung about everywhere, enchanted, floating orbs. Fireflies danced in the sky, and the stars twinkled merrily. Fairies zipped across the fields, laughing and playing, and he saw the phoenix, and unicorns and dragons mingling with each other. There were beautiful strands of flowers strewn about the field. And at the far end, at the far edge, he could see the two thrones and a red carpet set out for the king and queen. He walked forward, utterly astonished and completely entranced by the splendor all around him. He didn't notice when the creatures fell silent as he passed them. He felt so at home in this place.

"Welcome, my child."

His attention snapped to the fairy on the throne, the same one as before. He smiled widely and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His brain told him to bow, but his legs could not. She laughed.

"He is so overwhelmed by his celebration he cannot speak!"

That snapped him from his trance as all the creatures laughed. "Huh?"

He felt someone place a warm cloth on his shoulders, and he turned to see Salai placing a white wolfskin around him. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of his friend. Salai placed a quick kiss on his lips.

"Do you like your ball?"

"W-what do you mean?"

His attention was pulled back to the Queen when she rose and held out her hands.

"Come here, my prince."

He was frozen in his spot. Salai laughed and gave him a push, and he stumbled forward until he felt arms wrap around him in a tight hug. He felt the Queen kiss the side of his head, and he slowly, hesitantly, wrapped his arms around her. When his hands joined on the other side of her waist and he set his head on her shoulder, he felt at home. With a laugh, he wrapped her in a tight hug and clung tightly.

When she managed to pry him off, she reached up, and he gasped as the phoenix dropped a crown woven of flowers and eagle feathers, phoenix fire and dragon scales into her hands. It looked like a prince's crown. She placed it on his head, and he reached up to touch it. She turned him around to see all of the creatures bowing deeply.

"Behold: the prince of the magic realm! My child has returned!"

He had never felt so at home as a cheer went up among the creatures, and his presence was finally celebrated in a week-long party.

* * *

><p><strong>I love fairy tales. I love fairy tales when they reference my favorite fairy tales. I love fairy tales when they end happily.<strong>

**Making the AssCreed fandom happier one story at a time! :3  
><strong>


End file.
